elrhiarhodan

Title: A Composition in White and Black
Author: elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Written For: MMOM 2013
Prompt: Shoulders
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke (pre-Peter/Neal)
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~350
Summary: As objects of desire go, Neal can get close to it, but he can’t touch it.

A/N: Written for my favorite partner in crime, sinfulslasher, who incites and enables me.

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Days like today, Neal wonders if the Devil invented shoulder holsters just to torment him.

Peter doesn’t often wear his while in the office, but he always puts it on when he goes out to investigate or interrogate or just pick up coffee. It’s what an FBI agent does: he arms himself appropriately. Neal blinks at the thought, arms and gets an inappropriately pleasurable jolt.

He loves Peter’s arms. In fact, of all the parts of Peter’s body that he loves (and there aren’t any parts of it that he doesn’t), his arms are in the top five. Running ahead of his shoulders when garbed in a tee shirt, but always a little further down on the list when the shoulder holster is on display.

But it’s days like today that drive Neal a little crazy.

They’re back in the office, running through an exhaustive debrief after arresting a suspect. Peter’s got his jacket off, but his holster’s still on, and because the air conditioning isn’t working, his sleeves are rolled up, his tie is loosened and his shirt collar’s unbuttoned. Neal thinks it’s like he’s hit the trifecta but if he goes to claim his prize, he’ll be arrested.

So he concentrates on Peter’s voice, but that doesn’t help, either. It reminds him of Peter’s shoulders, broad and deep and strong. The sound rumbles through him, making him ache a little more. The debriefing continues for another hour and by the time they’re finished, Neal’s sweating, and it’s not because of the temperature in the room.

Peter heads into his office, and Neal watches his retreating back, his torso a study in white and black. The lines are strong and if Neal concentrates, he can reduce it to an abstract composition. A drawing exercise. But he doesn’t.

Neal does have some self-control. He doesn’t head to the men’s room to beat off. He waits until he can get home and in the cool privacy of his apartment, he can stroke himself to repeated madness, imagining Peter wearing nothing but his shoulder holster.

FIN